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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598652">You're my favourite fantasy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/versti_fantur/pseuds/versti_fantur'>versti_fantur</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You look so pretty and I love this view [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>LazyTown</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Flower Crowns, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, hayfever - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:28:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23598652</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/versti_fantur/pseuds/versti_fantur</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Íþróttaálfurinn takes Glanni to a meadow filled with flowers. Glanni has hay fever. Flower crowns and fluff ensue.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Glanni Glæpur/Íþróttaálfurinn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You look so pretty and I love this view [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You're my favourite fantasy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The next chapter of Ratljost will be out tomorrow I promise, but for now have this sickeningly fluffy thing. (I made flower crowns and it sucked because of allergies, so what's a better way of enjoying them without sneezing to death? Writing fanfic about them instead)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were the beginnings of a smirk growing on Íþróttaálfurinn’s face, and Glanni didn’t like it. He’d taken Glanni’s hand about twenty minutes ago, after they’d bumped into each other in the city centre and had barely said a word before whisking him away in that damned balloon that was the bane of Glanni’s existence. He was flying it fairly low though, so Glanni’s vertigo wasn’t <i>too</i> bad, but it wasn’t helped by Íþróttaálfurinn’s secrecy, which was equally intriguing and unnerving; Glanni hadn’t believed Íþróttaálfurinn could even keep a secret this long, but apparently that theory had been disproved. </p><p>The lazy mid-afternoon sun was warm on his back as he leant against the side of the basket, directly facing Íþróttaálfurinn, who didn’t seem to notice the fact he was being almost blinded by the light. If he hadn’t been so distracted by what Íþróttaálfurinn might be hiding, he would’ve appreciated a little more the way Íþróttaálfurinn seemed to glow in the sunlight—tanned arms flexing their muscles with every casual movement, his blue eyes illuminated and brighter than ever—and Glanni would have all the time in the world to admire them later.</p><p>Before long, Íþróttaálfurinn set the balloon down just outside of the city, and though the skyline was a cityscape to the south, in all other directions was a meadow lined with evergreen trees, long grass swaying loftily in the breeze with the wildflowers. If Glanni were a nicer person, he may have felt sorry for the flowers crushed by the balloon’s basket as it landed, much like Íþróttaálfurinn did as he apologised in Elvish for it, but instead he laughed, then coughed, then sneezed. </p><p>“Are you alright?” Íþróttaálfurinn asked teasingly as Glanni gave him the finger.</p><p>“One day you’ll find you’re allergic to something and then you’ll suffer,” Glanni said, “I hope it’s fish,”</p><p>Íþróttaálfurinn laughed, jumping out of the basket into a handstand. “Elves don’t get allergies, especially not hay fever,” He jumped back to his feet and offered a hand to Glanni to climb out, but it was swatted away.</p><p>“Of course they don’t, that’d be too damn convenient,” Glanni muttered to himself as he hopped out, “So why are we here?” </p><p>Íþróttaálfurinn smirked again cryptically, and took Glanni’s hand, picking up a bag in the other and tugging him towards the other side of the meadow. Glanni could tell he wanted to flip his way across the whole field, and probably would if Glanni let go of his hand, so he kept hold of it out of spite (and <i>not</i> because holding Íþróttaálfurinn’s hand was one of his favourite pastimes, next to disguising himself and arson).</p><p>Once they’d reached the spot Íþróttaálfurinn had picked, and he’d pulled a blanket from the bag and laid it out on the grass, they both sat down, Glanni ignoring the itch in his eyes from the pollen. Íþróttaálfurinn gathered a few flowers from around them, weaving the stems together to form a crown, and Glanni, whilst still feigning poised indifference, watched out of the corner of his eye. The technique seemed simple, but before long, Íþróttaálfurinn had braided an entire bouquet into the crown, a mixture of flowers Glanni couldn’t name, but Íþróttaálfurinn, having sensed Glanni was watching, began to list them as he worked.</p><p>“Pyramedal orchid,” he said as he softly stroked the tiny arrow shaped pink petals, “Saw wort.” It looked like a thistle, but Glanni wasn’t going to challenge Íþróttaálfurinn when it came to plants. “Nightshade.”</p><p>Ooh now this one Glanni <i>had</i> heard of! Poison wasn’t really his day to day type crime, but he definitely did enjoy it now and again—usually only in small doses though, a life sentence for murder wasn’t how he wanted to end his days, plus Íþróttaálfurinn would probably berate him for days if he actually killed anyone.</p><p>After a few minutes, Íþróttaálfurinn was done; he secured the ends together and placed it atop Glanni’s head. It was all in delicate shades of pink and purple, and Glanni couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the sides of his lips—it was a sappy, romantic gesture and he would usually laugh it off, but instead he leant forward and thanked Íþróttaálfurinn with a kiss. It was short and sweet, and they both blushed when they broke apart. Satisfied with his work, Íþróttaálfurinn leant backwards and closed his eyes, dozing in the afternoon breeze. They spoke a little, but mostly they were quiet, a companionable silence descending around them.</p><p>Glanni subtly began to pick flowers around them too, barely moving from his position on the blanket, but his long arms meant that soon he’d accumulated a considerable pile of flowers beside him. Folding and weaving them similarly to how he remembered Íþróttaálfurinn doing it, he slowly began to form something vaguely crown shaped. It was slightly wonky, some of the stems stuck out at odd angles, and he had that weird sticky sap from inside the flowers all over his hands, but he’d done it! He set it down beside him, before crawling forward to wake Íþróttaálfurinn with another kiss. Or, more accurately, a kiss and a violent shake of his shoulders when the kiss didn’t work. </p><p>Íþróttaálfurinn woke with a start, and Glanni seized the moment to pull Íþróttaálfurinn’s hat off (gods he didn’t get to see those adorable blonde curls anywhere near enough), and set the flower crown in its place; the yellows and oranges of the flowers he’d chosen glowing golden in the late afternoon sunlight. Íþróttaálfurinn raised his hands up to see what Glanni’s surprise gift was, and took hold of it gingerly, holding it in front of him as though he was examining it.</p><p>“Wow,” he said softly after a moment, turning his gaze to Glanni, whose smug grin hid the panicky ‘what if he hates it?’ thoughts ricocheting in his head. “You picked my favourite colour,” his smile could’ve warmed the heart of the most hardened criminal, and technically it did, as he used his free hand to pull Glanni into an embrace, and Glanni melted into it. </p><p>“You picked mine first,” Glanni reminded him, and Íþróttaálfurinn chuckled, pulling away to set the crown back on his head.</p><p>“Why are you crying?” Íþróttaálfurinn asked as he reached out to wipe away a tear from Glanni’s cheek.</p><p>Glanni rolled his eyes, “Hay fever, remember? Breathing’s kinda hard right now-” his reply was cut short by a timely sneeze, which sent Íþróttaálfurinn into a fit of giggles. Glanni swatted him away but there was no malice in it, and after a moment, he leant into Íþróttaálfurinn’s side as the sun lowered in the sky. Glanni never really considered himself a romantic, but maybe Íþróttaálfurinn was changing that. And maybe Glanni wanted him to,</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Title from Wildflower by 5sos<br/>Comments and kudos brighten my day</p></blockquote></div></div>
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